


Wear Those Pretty Dresses of Yours (Say That One More Time, I Dare You)

by ohmygoshwhatascream



Category: Mother 2: Gyiyg no Gyakushuu | EarthBound
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Written in 2018, i guess, i love her okay, pre finding paula
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 14:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21199208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygoshwhatascream/pseuds/ohmygoshwhatascream
Summary: Paula is much more than a pretty face, no matter what people may think of her.





	Wear Those Pretty Dresses of Yours (Say That One More Time, I Dare You)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in 2018, almost instantly after my other earthbound fic. I’ve revised some spelling errors and just written the ending, (literally a few sentences extra) so it’s quite old. still, I thought I should contribute to this fan base again. I’ve missed it.

It’s in dreams, little snippets between space and time, that Paula first realises something is amiss in the world.

She finds herself restless and fidgety, her legs longing to move to anywhere but where she is now and her fingertips itch in a desire to create fire and ice and thunder.

She dreams of talking bees and a huge glowing meteorite on a hill. She dreams of a boy in a red cap, his face overshadowed by thick fog and his hands clenched around a cracked baseball bat.  
She dreams someone else, another boy - this one with thick glasses that slide down his nose and a bow-tie wrapped neatly round his starched collar.  
Some days, occasionally, she even sees a third boy in her dreamscape; this one has dark eyes and a firm, stern-looking mouth, she notes that he looks older and much more serious than any child Paula’s ever seen.

There are other people that she sees as well.

She sees people she recognises, like the Runaway Five and Everdred, as well as more people and creatures that she can only wonder as to who they are.

An old-looking man with hair whiter than snow, a golden statue that shimmers like stars in the night sky, a round looking ball of a thing with bright eyes and a funny voice, a strange duck with a wild look in its eyes, a huge mole with blood dripping from its cavernous jaws, a large child with skin mottled blue sitting proudly in some strange domed contraption.

Her dreams always end up with her waking up, bolting upright, her eyes wide and fear gripping at her heart.

She feels confused, somehow happy yet in pain yet more terrified than she could ever fathom, like she’s the sky and the universe but she’s burning away like paper. It’s a strange feeling and she can’t even make words to describe what it is, but it doesn’t feel right.

Those conflicting emotions leave a name on her tongue that doesn’t seem to register in her head, but she feels the importance of that name, she feels the fear and power that comes with it.

Very rarely she will dream of a strange figure. They’re not even real, more like a bundle of coloured lights and swirling clouds.

Their name, once again, is right on the tip of her tongue but completely wiped from her memory.

This figure, however, seems to be watching her.

It doesn’t feel normal, but those lights seem to reach out to her, they give her solace amongst the darkness that haunt her dreams, and she finds herself praying for the figure’s safety and well-being, even though she has no idea if they actually exist.

She doesn’t know why she dreams of them, she doesn’t know what the significance of these people is but, most of all, she doesn’t understand why, after each dream fades away, her heart longs and longs more and more to get up and leave Twoson.

She finds her hands trembling as she ties her red bow in her hair, he smooth fingers fumbling over the silken knots, her eyes trained on her own reflection in the mirror.

It’s a side effect of the PSI, the strange powers within her that she has tried for so long to forget about, building up in her body.

It had never been a problem before, she had always pretended she was like every other child, that she couldn’t set fire to furniture with a snap of her fingers or summon lighting down from the heavens to burn grass and fry the leaves on trees.

She had to suppress it.

Her parents, they loved her, but she saw the fear in her eyes when they would catch glimpses of a tiny flicker of a flame in the palms of her hand, or the concerned glances they tried to discreetly send one another when Paula would brush past them, and her hands would be cold like snow and ice. (But Paula would sense their apprehension, she could almost taste it in the air around them, it was bitter. It made her feel sick)

She knew that her parents held nothing but adoration for her, but she also knew that they were scared of her powers, uncertain of what she was capable of and unwilling to find out.

So she had suppressed the tingling in her body, the magic that seemed to flow through her veins like oxygen and had attempted to forget about it.

She had tried to wipe every thought of her powers from her mind and - for a while - it had worked.

But now, with the appearance of these strange dreams, her body seems to be growing more powerful, as though her powers are truly awakening after a deep slumber.

She now feels the crackle of electricity through the air every time she moves her hands, she can feel her body simultaneously grow both warm and cold, her heart pumping in her throat and her brain roaring in her ears.

It doesn’t help when word from Onett brings talk of a huge meteorite that had crashed up north, closing roads for the evening and brining either it a sense of unease that could be felt everywhere in the world.

The meteorite in her dreams flashes back at her, glowing from behind her eyelids every time she blinks. She can hear the buzz of a bee, the scream of a child. It’s all there, bubbling up between her thoughts.

She needs to go.

_Leave leave leave leave leave leave leave lea-_

So she does.

She finds herself drawn to the cave connecting Twoson to Happy-Happy Village.

She realises that she’s not been there for a while, nor has she heard any news from the place.

That in itself was not unusual, Happy-Happy Village had always liked to keep themselves to themselves, however Paula did not believe she had seen anyone leave or arrive from this place in… well, not for a long time.

In fact, now that she thought about it, she had heard one of the older residents around Twoson speaking of strange mushrooms and sprouts in the caves, ones that... _attacked_ them?

She remembered laughing it off, presuming those rumours to be words from someone going... well... slightly senile.

As in, let’s be real, _mushrooms? Sprouts? Attacking you?_ That’s not normal, that’s not a thing that actually happens.

But with all the weird dreams and the weird feelings and just everything being weird, Paula suddenly feels at unease with the world.

So it is with no surprise at all that she finds most of her time and energy focused on Happy-Happy Village, everything she already knew about it consuming her thoughts and always at the forefront of her mind, the elusive place soon turning into something that makes her legs burn and her blood boil hot.

She lasts a week before she swallows all her worries, her doubts, ignores her parent’s concerned glances and ignored the weird looks all the other children her age give her.

She had never fit in anyway.

She lasts a week before she ties her ribbon extra tight in her blonde hair, before she smooths out crinkles in her dress and kisses her favourite teddybear goodbye.

She lasts a week before she packs a bag, filling it with cookies and some fruit juice and other things she thought she would need.

She lasts a week before she hugs her parents goodbye and makes the trek to Happy-Happy village.

She lasts a week before, just as she reaches cave separating her home town from her final destination, she feels somebody’s hands warp around her mouth, silencing her muffled yell and finds herself unable to move as somebody else bashes her head in.

The last thing she saw before the world around her faded to black was a short, rather large, boy with greasy blonde hair that completely covered his eyes... _why did he look so familiar?_

That’s it.

That’s all she remembers.

She’s sorry.

_(Sorry mum, sorry dad, sorry everyone for always being so much trouble)_

She is strange.

She is weird.

She is different.

_Why hadn’t she been stronger? _She should have ignored the burning in her fingertips and the fate bubbling in her stomach.

If she had...

If she’d just...

Pretended to be normal, like everyone had told her, then none of this would have happened.

She’d still be at home.

Nobody would have to worry about her.

But now it was all going wrong.

_It was all her fault._

-

Paula finds herself fading in and out of consciousness as she’s dragged further through the cave.

She’s vaguely aware of sunlight, she can make out voices that she doesn’t recognise and every time she cracks her eyes open, all she can see is... blue?

As her mind grows fuzzy once more, and her vision swims, she hopes that all that blue isn’t some weird side effect of having your head smashed in.

Wait... was that cow... blue?

_Blue blue blue._

It’s all she can see.

It’s all she can hear.

_Blue... blue blue blue._

Blue buildings blue grass blue sky blue people they’re all saying blue everything is _blue blue blue blue blue blue-_

She passes out.

-

The next time she wakes up, it’s for real.

Her head kills and her feet ache.

She realises quickly that they are no longer outside, no.

Instead they seem to be in a small cabin of some sorts. _Where_? Paula has no idea. She just prays that it’s somewhere near Happy-Happy Village and not in some remote forest a million miles away.

As the world around her becomes mor vivid, she can feel her hands, her arms, pulled behind her in a rather painful manner, and she can feel something tight around her wrists.

Wait...

Something...

Around her wrists?

She gasps in pain as, whatever it is, tightens it’s grip.

Taken aback, she squirms her body in an attempt to get away, her wrists screaming in protest and the tight hold on her increasing in strength, hurting more and more and more.

Wildly, she flips her head backwards, attempting to get a good luck at this... _kidnapper_.

She’s certainly not expecting to see the boy again.

(She doesn’t quite know why, she had maybe hoped that he had been forced to knock her out, seeing him here made her think otherwise.)

But there he was.

Now that she was closer, Paula could see that, yes, his hair was disgustingly disheveled and unkempt, as well as coated in grease.

He also smelt a bit, like body odour and dirt, as though he’d had to hurry to get here, as if he hadn’t washed for days.

She can see his she’s from this distance as well, and she’s taken aback just by the pure malice and spite held in his dark gaze.

The look in his eyes, he almost doesn’t look human.

He looks crazed, evil, without conscience and without remorse.

He... scares her.

She wants to go home.

-

He shoves her.

Hard.

He’s talking and laughing and calling her names and Paula wants to punch him.

She wants to cry too, but she’ll be damned if she can’t knock the lights out of him, he’s lucky she didn’t think it bring any weapons with her in her bag.

_Her bag!_

_Where is it?_

_Did he take that off her?_

Her question is answered as the boy shoves her again, harder this time, flinging her against one of the walls of the cabin.

She yelps as her body crashes against the wooden walls, tears springing to her eyes as her back burns like fire and pain shoots down her spine like jolts of electricity.

He’s deceptively strong, most of his large stature seemed to be fat but he obviously had some muscle, somewhere. He certainly wasn’t as weak as Paula had expected.

“Heh. Even for a girl, you’re pretty weak. Not that I expected anything more - girls like you are more bothered about your looks than anything else. To think that Giygas is worried about you destroying him...” he mumbles other things to himself that don’t make any sense, something about apples and talking bees.

It all falls on deaf ears.

_What did he say about her?_

As quick as lightening, as soon as Paula gathers her bearings, she stands up, her fists clenched and anger fizzing in her gut.

She stumbles forward on dead legs, her mouth frowned in determination and her heart buzzing with adrenaline.

Yes, now she might be weak, she might be unable to do much, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try.

_Who does he think he’s calling weak?_

What does he mean, ‘girls like her’?

She’ll show him.

She makes her way towards him, her steps faltering and her head spinning as it tries to deal with the repercussions of having it smashed in only hours ago.

Her fists raise, but they are too slow.

Everything is too slow.

The pounding in her head is slowing her down to what seems like a snail’s pace, she’s too slow. Way too slow.

And he knows it.

He’s slow too, Paula notes.

But he’s much faster than her. (Not that that’s hard in her weakened state)

He easily dodges her poor attempt at an attack, grabbing her clenched fist and once again hurling her against the wall.

She hadn’t realised until then, (she doesn’t know how, it’s not like they were hidden) but the room has been halved by a series of thick metal bars, with an ajar door. Not unlike a prison cell.

Before she could stand up again, before she could do anything at all, the strange boy locks the door shut, just after he throws a much lighter looking bag (her own she realises) that slides accords the floor, halting against her feet.

Then he’s gone.

With a wave, a snarky grin and a soulless laugh, he leaves.

Leaving Paula alone.

She cries.

-

Paula doesn’t know how long she’s been there.

It can’t have been more than a few hours, but - as cliché as it sounds, it feels like years.

Her stomach growls, and she desperately looks in her bag for the cookies she knows she packed in there beforehand.

She finds nothing, only crumbs. That boy had obviously eaten everything.

_God, when she gets her hands on him..._

She’s never felt anger like it.

She was used to the hot, fiery feeling within her, she’d become insanely talented at smiling the irritation away, but now it was overflowing in her stomach and her hair felt like it was burning bright.

She can say with one hundred percent certainty that she hates that boy.

She _hates hates hates hates hates _him-

Pokey. Giygas. The Apple of Enlightenment. Buzz Buzz.

Ness.

Poo.

Jeff.

The names appear in her mind clear as glass for seconds, and then as soon as they came they fade way to nothing.

Paula is left wondering exactly what just happened as she rubs at her temples, a headache left in her thoughts’ wake.

-

No more than a few hours later, as the blue sky outside glows orange that slowly burns to black, Paula begins to feel the strange sensation that she had before.

She feels, in the very depths of her mind, that something is calling out for her,

It’s similar to the burning in her fingertips, yet simultaneously the complete opposite.

The burning had felt like fate, he’d destiny,

The calling, the feeling that something or someone is summoning her, feels more like a necessity, something that she must do survive.

Whatever it is, she feels the urgency in her lungs and she feels the sheer force of it weaken her legs.

Paula doesn’t want to succumb to these strange things again, not after where it led her the first time, but this one feels so much more.

In those moments, Paula feels as if the entire world is resting on her shoulders.

So she swallows her doubts, her second thoughts, and let’s her instincts take over.

Without even realising how, she feels her mind unravel like balls of ribbon and her thoughts escape like balloons floating on the horizon.

_Ness_, she thinks.

_Ness._

_Ness._

_I hope you can hear me._

_Ness._

She doesn’t even understand what she is doing, but she begs for help.

She doesn’t even know who this Ness person is, but his name feels like home and makes her toes curl and her heart tingle.

So she prays, she prays with all her heart that this Ness person will come and rescue her.

It isn’t until much, much later that Paula feels something dark and horrible settle in her stomach.

She doesn’t want to be some damsel in distress.

But fate has other things in mind for her, so this is how it must be.

But is she really going to sit there and look pretty as her destiny carries out before her eyes?

She might be the girl that needs saving, but she’ll be damned if she’s not going to be the feistiest, the strongest, the bravest ‘damsel’ the world has ever seen.

The second she gets out of here, the world better watch it’s back.

Flames flicker brightly in the palms of her hands.

She’s more than a pretty face.

So, she decides, she might need rescuing right now; but that doesn’t make her weak.

She’s only weak if she gives up.

Paula grinds her teeth, this Ness person better hurry up.

-

Two days pass with nothing of interest happening.

She sees Mr. Carpainter three times a day, he brings small things like bread and water and one day he even gives her a cookie.

He doesn’t talk much during these visits, but when he does, Paula instantly recognised him as one of the voices she had heard in the caves, when she’d been knocked out.

She didn’t think she’d forget a voice like his, it was strange, like someone had their hands over his mouth yet simultaneously like he was speaking through an empty tunnel.

His voice had a bizarre metallic quality to it, just like his eyes, as though they were glazed over, as if something was controlling him.

Sometimes, very occasionally, when Mr. Carpainter smiles, she would see his eyes focus and his mouth twist in confusion, sometimes while he was talking, his voice would grow fainter and quieter, he’d sound more human and his hands would bounce up and down. It was unusual, to say the least.

Paula didn’t quite know what was happening in this village, but she knew for certain something was very, _very_ wrong with this man.

That evening, as the sky burned orange through the windows of the cabin, Paula found her praying extra hard for Ness’ safety, wherever he was.

She hoped he was okay.

-

She counts the shadows on the walls, days passing from beneath streaks of light and canopies of darkness.

She wonders how long she has been gone, if her parents are worried.

She wonders and she prays for the boy she does not know, and she waits.

-

There’s a bang, a shout. The door flings open.

A boy in a striped shirt and red cap stares at her.

_Ness_.

She smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Paula so much okay she’s just so cool


End file.
